


hear those magic reindeer click

by milkshakesandmurders



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Chapters are different prompts, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkshakesandmurders/pseuds/milkshakesandmurders
Summary: collection of festive tumblr prompts





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I was convinced by some folk (yes, I'm looking at you S and K) to transfer my tumblr prompts over to AO3, and look... I'm proud of these prompts; given the funk I have found myself in lately.
> 
> So, enjoy... Merry Christmas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you been nice or naughty this year?” (I will accept a kinky drabble) - @jordansconnor

_**“Have you been nice or naughty this year?” (I will accept a kinky drabble) - @jordansconnor**_

 

* * *

 

Her feet hurt. Her back hurt. Her mouth hurt from smiling,  _so damn much_.

But it  _was_  Christmas. And it  _was_  Betty’s job.

It  _was_  her job to wear ridiculous elf boots with heels, and it  _was_  her job to smile for hours on end to please the paying customers.

This was Betty’s fifth year doing this gig, and it didn’t change. The shoes didn’t improve, and the clothes were still the same kind of itchy as it was the first year she started.

But the customers?  _They were the worst_.

The last two years however, were kinda different. There was one person that had made the years almost bearable.

_Santa Clause. Saint Nicholas. Kris Kringle. Father Christmas._

**_Jughead Jones._ **

The eye rolls that were shared between the two of them after a mother had cussed him out for her misbehaving child—after said child had kneed him in the nether regions—had Betty giggling like a sixteen-year-old school girl.

Betty knew though, the looks that were stolen, were far from innocent. Jughead plagued her thoughts every night of November and December. And most of the months leading up to, and afterward.

 

—

 

It was Christmas Eve, the store was closed and there was just a handful of staff left behind.

Betty and Jughead being two of them.

As she went about cleaning up the lolly wrappers and the discarded lollipop sticks—she let out an audible sigh.

“What’s up, Betty?” He dared to ask. Although, Jughead had a feeling he knew exactly what was wrong. _One_ particular parent had had a decent go at the pair of them earlier in the evening, and he sensed she hadn’t quite let go of it.

Betty shrugged her response. “I just wanna finish, go home and have a glass of wine.”

Jughead nodded and they continued the clean up in a relative, comfortable silence.

“Hey, Betts….”

She turned around, slightly flushed at his nickname for her.

“I have a bottle of whiskey in the change room, if you want an early start on that alcohol consumption?”

“I don’t even think I need to answer that.”

 

—

 

They were two glasses of whiskey down, when Betty felt a significant shift in the small room. Not quite being able to place her finger on it, she toyed with the tinsel on the hem of her dress.

“I should  _probably_  go home.”

Jughead hummed. “ _Or_ , you could stay here.”

Betty’s eye widened at this offer.

“Have you been naughty or nice this year, Elizabeth?”

Pursing her lips, and slamming back the remainder of her whiskey, Betty stood and slowly made her way over to Jughead.

“Little bit naughty, little bit nice.” Chewing on her bottom lip, Betty moved to straddle his lap. “What so you think, Santa? Have I been naughty or nice this year?”


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C'mon Betts, the Serpent’s toy run is today and you’re not even dressed up yet…” said Jughead straightening his Santa hat.
> 
> “I know Jug, but I want the children to have the freshest cookies and I’m almost done.” - @fortheloveofriverdale

**_“C'mon Betts, the Serpent’s toy run is today and you’re not even dressed up yet…” said Jughead straightening his Santa hat._ **

**_“I know Jug, but I want the children to have the freshest cookies and I’m almost done.” - @fortheloveofriverdale_ **

 

* * *

 

There’s no point in arguing with her. Jughead knows how much the children will want cookies— _and the fact that someone has gone to the effort of making the cookies from scratch; for them_ —will more than make up for the fact that they’re now half an hour late.

“ _Okay_!” Betty chirps, “all done.”

He watches her skip down the hallway to their bedroom, and smiles to himself.

It’s not long after he gathers the containers, and the bags—loads it all into the boot of their car downstairs that Betty emerges out onto the footpath in her chosen outfit.

“How do I look?” She questions, before doing a slow and complete spin.

Jughead closes the boot of the car and walks over to Betty, and drapes his arms over her shoulders and around her neck.

“You look festive and relaxed.”

Betty offers him a warm smile in return, standing up on her tippy toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“Let’s go, Santa! We’re running late!”

He huffs in frustration, and gives her a quick slap on the ass. “It’s a good thing your cookies are so damn delicious, Mrs Claus."


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!”
> 
> “You’d freeze out there.” - @a92vm

**_“I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!”_ **

**_“You’d freeze out there.” - @a92vm_ **

 

* * *

 

‘If looks could kill, you would’ve died a thousand deaths by now.’ - Betty was known for her death stare. After all, nobody second guessed Alice Cooper,  _right_?

**Right**.

Betty Cooper had learnt from  _the_  best.

“I am not kissing Elizabeth Cooper,” He had muttered under his breath.

With pursed lips, Betty glared. And she  _knows_  he felt it. She watched him physically sink lower into his spot on the carpet. She imagines he was wishing for the ground to open up below him.

“I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole!” she spat back. “I don’t want to kiss you either.” Standing up, along with pursed lips, she felt her nostrils flaring. Flipping him the bird, she looked at Veronica and muttered something about going outside.

“You’d freeze out there.”

Spinning around on her heel, ignoring the goosebumps that were forming underneath her one layer of sweater (already dreading going outside due to the forecast of heavy snow fall), Betty rolled her eyes, “I’d rather freeze then have anything to do with you.” With a final nail in the coffin, she blew Jughead Jones a kiss and stormed out of the now  _very_  quiet room.

 

–

 

As the chill hit her face, Betty found a quiet spot on the balcony and pulled out her phone.

Nine thirty.

Feeling her teeth begin to chatter, she hoped the next ten minutes would pass. Quickly.

Thankfully, it did.

Betty knew it wouldn’t take long for  _spin-the-bottle_  to start up, and the next pash to take place–and for the argument between Betty and Jughead to be forgotten about.

“You took your time.”

“I had to fend off a few questions.”

Betty smiled as she felt the weight of his jacket fall on her shoulders, alongside his arm wrapping around her. Immediately, she felt surrounded by his warmth.

“Thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole, hey Betts?”

“You refusing to kiss me, Juggie?”

“Still, what you said was a bit rough, and almost believable… Had we not made out in the closet half an hour beforehand.”

He smiled as he saw the blush creep over her face.

“We’ll have to reveal ourselves soon, Jug.” Betty whispered, “I want to be able to kiss you, hug you, hold your hand in public.”

Pulling her closer, placing a kiss on her temple, Jughead sighed, “Soon, Betts. I promise. After all, Christmas is coming up. And, I found a stash of mistletoe hidden at school.”


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All I want for Christmas is you.” + Their cars broken down on the side of the road somewhere bonus points if they're on their way home for Christmas. Good luck my love! - @bugggghead

_**“All I want for Christmas is you.” + Their cars broken down on the side of the road somewhere bonus points if they're on their way home for Christmas. Good luck my love! - @bugggghead** _

 

* * *

 

_“I don’t need to hang my stocking, There upon the fireplace, Santa Claus won’t make me happy, With a toy on Christmas Day..”_

“Ugh, Betty, please…” He pleaded.

“ _Whaaaat_?” Betty questioned, in her  _sing-song-too-much-eggnog_  voice.

“Can we please, for the love of  _all_  things festive, stop singing Mariah Carey?”

Turning in her seat, legs curled underneath, with her resting on her open palms, Betty tilted her head slightly, “But, what if Mariah has a hidden message?”

Jughead felt his jaw clench, immediately. 

**_No, Forsythe. No no no._ **

“I mean,  _Oh, I won’t ask for much this Christmas, I won’t even wish for snow, And I’m just gonna keep on waiting, Underneath the mistletoe…_ ”

Like fate laughing at him, the car spluttered, the radio cut out and he had just enough time to pull over to the side of the road.

“ **Fuck!** ” He cursed, slamming his open palms on the steering wheel.

“ _Oh_.”

Shoving the gearstick into  _park_ , and pulling the handbrake upwards, Jughead groaned and turned the keys in the ignition.

“If you didn’t want Mariah, you could’ve  _just_  said. This is a bit extreme.”

He rolled his eyes, and retrieved his phone from his pocket, “I’m calling roadside assist.”

“You’re actually  _serious_? Is the car… dead?” Betty questioned.

“Well, it’s either out of fuel, or Mariah killed it.”

“Ha-ha.. Mariah would  _never_ …”

“Alice is going to kill me, if the cold doesn’t first.” He muttered.

“My mother may kill you, but… maybe we can keep each other warm until roadside assist arrive…”

Jughead almost dropped his phone at the quiet voice beside him. 

“Maybe, all  _I_  want for Christmas… is  _you_ , Juggie..”

Before any of her words could register, her warm lips were on his, and before his own lips could respond, she had pulled away.

“I think I could convince Alice Cooper to leave you be.”


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 40\. i just found out that a friend of a friend of a friend isn’t hosting their annual holiday party this year, so now how am i going to have my annual run in with you? - Ahhhh! I'm so excited for you to work your magic, babe! - @bugggghead

_**40. i just found out that a friend of a friend of a friend isn’t hosting their annual holiday party this year, so now how am i going to have my annual run in with you? - Ahhhh! I'm so excited for you to work your magic, babe! - @bugggghead** _

 

* * *

 

It’s been the same thing for the last five years.

Veronica has her annual Christmas bash, and she invites the entire population of Riverdale.

But, there’s really only one invitee that Forsythe Pendleton ‘ _Jughead_ ’ Jones the Third actually cares about.

And, that one invitee is the one and only Elizabeth ‘ _Betty_ ’ Cooper.

She’s gingerbread cookies, eggnog and ugly Christmas sweaters. And, she  _just_ happens to be the best friend of Veronica’s husband.

He’s on the couch and the text message comes through.

**_Veronica: to all of my loyal friends, unfortunately, my annual Christmas Cracker Bash won’t be happening this year. I’ve received the news that my father, Hiram Lodge, isn’t well at the moment and is requesting my presence. Please accept my apologies. I love you all. Be safe and enjoy the holidays. I’ll see everyone in the new year._ **

Jughead had an inkling this would happen—Veronica had mentioned that her mother was being unusually secretive of late, and she suspected it was related to her father. It seems like mob life had maybe taken its toll.

He decided that her phone would no doubt being going into overdrive at the announcement, so he made a mental note to call her the following day.

With the news of the canceled Christmas gathering, along came the realisation—no party, meant no bumping into Betty.

Jughead let out a slightly disgruntled groan, and sunk deeper into the couch below.

—

When Jughead would usually be getting ready—mentally debating which shade of black button up shirt he should wear, or which “loved” pair of converses to wear—he’s on the couch playing video games, with a bowl of corn chips on the table.

It’s only when he’s getting his ass handed to him by— _no doubt_ —a thirteen-year-old, a soft knocking on the door pulls him from his game, and pushes him back to reality.

He stands up and grimaces at the crumbs falling from his shirt and into the carpet below, and once again, makes a mental note to get the hand-vac out once he tells the carolers he’s not interested in being serenaded by Jingle Bells.

But when he opens the door and finds  _her_ , standing there, looking at  _him_ —he’s rendered speechless.

“It’s tradition, Jug. I’ve seen you on the same day, every year for the last five years.”

The way she smiles at him as his chest blooming, and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering.

Jughead steps aside, and motions for her to enter. As he watches her walk in, his eyes glance up to the ceiling, and for the first time in the entire time he’s known Veronica—he finds himself thanking Hiram Lodge.


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, OKAY - HERE'S ANOTHER ONE THAT JUST SCREAMS BUGHEAD TO ME! 69. why can’t you turn your Christmas lights off at a reasonable hour? they’re way too bright and some of us are trying to sleep. if you won’t turn them off, i’ll turn them off myself (credit) - @bugggghead

_**OKAY, OKAY - HERE'S ANOTHER ONE THAT JUST SCREAMS BUGHEAD TO ME! 69. why can’t you turn your Christmas lights off at a reasonable hour? they’re way too bright and some of us are trying to sleep. if you won’t turn them off, i’ll turn them off myself (credit) - @bugggghead** _

 

* * *

 

If she had known the man across the street would be  _this_  into Christmas, she may not have agreed to spend the holidays with her sister.

It was nearing eleven thirty at night, when Polly finally joined her on the couch, hot (probably, now warm) chocolate in hand.

“You do an amazing job, Pol.”

Polly laughed into her mug. “Thanks, Betty.”

After they’d finished their drinks, Betty looked toward the bright house. “Is it like this every year?”

Once again, Polly laughed, “He’s lived there for about three years. And every year, his collection grows. This year is..”

“Bright.” Betty finished. “Just so you know, next year, you can come to me.”

The girls exchanged a quick hug and Betty hurried up to her bedroom. Her annoyance at the lights was only amplified by the fact that her room was, in fact, glowing.

After far too long, Betty finally succumbed to her full day of travel.

 

—

 

It was the third night at Polly’s, and Betty felt like a zombie. Ten o’clock rolled around, and she stepped into her shoes and tightened the belt on her coat. Pulling the beanie over her ears, she stomped over across and the road and ascended the stairs that led the offending front door.

She only had to knock twice before the door swung open to reveal someone she wasn’t quite expecting.

_Did Polly know…._  she immediately questioned herself.

“ _Jughead_?”

He leaned on the frame of the door and grinned.

“Hey there, Betts.”

With her jaw firmly on the floor of the porch, her arms motioned to the lights surrounding her. “It’s late. When do you actually turn these lights off?”

He shrugged, and smirked.

“Some of us are trying to sleep?!”

“Those twins are a handful, aren’t they?”

“I, ah… yeah, they are.” Betty shifted her feet and tried to ignore the warm flush creeping up on her. He looked…  _different_. He had aged, but she noted—he had aged  _well_.

“I’m tired, so.. I’m going to…” She motioned back to Polly’s.

“I’ve just made some hot chocolate. You’re welcome to join me. I’ll even turn the lights off. Just for you.”

“….Jug.”

“But, you’ll have to tell the kids that come around later at night.”

Betty scoffed, and rolled her eyes. “Is there anything extra in your hot chocolate?”

Jughead feigned horror, “Elizabeth Cooper. Are you asking me if I’ve slipped any booze into a family favourite?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“For you. I’ll do anything.” 


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOHHH GIRL! I just realized you reblogged the winter prompts post too! Okay. I'm combining two cause..... YASSSS. How about “You’d freeze out there.” combined with we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward - HELL. YES. - @theheavycrown

_**OOOOOHHH GIRL! I just realized you reblogged the winter prompts post too! Okay. I'm combining two cause..... YASSSS. How about “You’d freeze out there.” combined with we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward - HELL. YES. - @theheavycrown** _

 

* * *

 

Jughead’s eyes snapped open, and almost instantly, he felt dread. Like, a ball in the pit of his stomach.

His eyes looked around the room—and, it wasn’t his. It was feminine.

“ _Fuck_.”

Slowly he moved his eyes to beside him, but noticed the other side of the bed was empty. Knowing full well that underneath the blankets, he was naked. Moving ever so slightly, he caught sight of his discarded underwear in the furthest corner of the room.

Swinging his legs out, he sighed as he noticed the soft warm carpet below—very, very different to the cold floorboards of his own residence. But, Just as he went to stand—still very much naked—the bedroom door flew open and he fell back onto the bed, and pulled the blanket over his waist.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Jughead swallowed the lump that had firmly lodged itself in his throat.

_Surely, there’s been a mistake._

This woman did  _not_  spend the night with  _him_.

Girls like  _her_  don’t even talk to guys like  _him_. Let alone spend the night with him— _naked_.

“Uh, hi.”

_Smooth, Jughead. Real smooth. This is Betty Cooper, and that’s how you greet her._

“Hi…” she giggled. “After last night, you seem kinda shy.” Pushing some hair behind her ear, she leaned against the door frame.

“I, uh… did we..”

“Did we have sex….” again, she giggled. “Yes, we kinda did. A few times, actually.”

“Oh.”

He was in an obvious state of disbelief. But when she walked over to him, with that look… it all started to come back…

“Don’t worry, Jug. We were both sober. We didn’t do anything we didn’t wanna do.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“There is something you should probably know….”

_Oh god, she’s an alien._

“There’s been a storm. It hit early this morning, and we’re kind of stuck inside.”

_Not an alien._

“How big of a storm?” He asked, still acutely aware of the fact that he was fully naked underneath her blanket, and also very aware of the dark purple mark on her collarbone.

“Big enough to cut all public transport and suspend all Uber’s. Which means a couple of things…”

Jughead raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

“We’re stuck inside until further notice. And, it also means, my housemate won’t be back for a while.”

The teasing and seductive lilt in her voice definitely doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Is the power out?”

She shrugged, “Unfortunately. No TV, my phone is very close to out of battery and of course, no heating.”

“No heating,  _huh_?”

The way her blonde hair fell loosely around her face when she shook her head, had memories of the events of the previous night flooding to the pit of his stomach.

“Looks like we may need to huddle underneath the blanket for warmth, huh?”

Betty turned into her knees and shuffled her way over to her pillows, “And, what a shame that would be.”


	8. eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have the most important prompt (very serious). “I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween.” - @shibbycat

**_I have the most important prompt (very serious). “I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween.” - @shibbycat_ **

 

* * *

 

“Jughead Jones!”

When Betty shrieks, it’s serious. She means business.

“What?” He shrugged.

“How could you say  _that_?”

“It works for both, perfectly well, actually.”

Betty continued to plate up the freshly baked gingerbread cookies, with a distinct look of horror on her face.

“It’s a Halloween movie,  _Juggie_.”

“Okay,” he plopped down on the couch, and clicked through to the start of his choice of film for the evening. “I get that Jack is the beloved pumpkin king, so there’s the Halloween reference—“

“—He’s from Halloweentown!” Betty all but shouts from the kitchen.

“Yes, Betty. I am aware of that.  _But_!” Jughead turns around to face his best friend (and lifelong crush, but that’s secret) and rests his elbows on the back of the couch— _she’s adorable when she’s mad_ —“he stumbles onto Christmastown. He plots to kidnap Santa!”

Betty purses her lips, and grabs the plate of cookies and stalks over to the lounge room.

“He plots to  _ruin_  Christmas, Jug!  _Ruin_  it!”

He rolls his eyes. “It still works for both.”

They sit in relative silence for the first half of the movie. It’s only when he feels her move slightly closer, that he’s not entirely concentrating on the movie he had convinced her to watch.

“I want some eggnog.” She announces.

Betty rises from the couch, and the warmth he had felt disappears as quickly as it had arrived.

“Betts. You’re—“

“Not old enough? Jug, please. Mum will be staying out. And, we have the ingredients. Just a glass or two. I promise.”

He concedes, and waves at her to continue.

Fifteen minutes later, she places two glasses on the coffee table amongst the cookies, tinsel and candles.

Leaning over, she picks up the glasses and hands him one. “Merry Christmas, Jug.”

They both take a sip of the eggnog, and both cough slightly, as the liquid travels down their throats.

“It’s—“

“— _awful_!” Betty finishes and places the glass on the table. “How do they drink this stuff?”

“It helps with inhibitions.”

“Do  _you_  have  _any_  inhibitions?”

Her question catches him off guard, and he places his own glass on the table.

“I’d have to drink more for you to find that out, Cooper.” He teases. “What about you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before he’s able to throw any kind of remark back, Betty’s soft lips are on his, and before he can register a reaction—she’s pulling away.

“I guess you know now.” She whispers.

Betty grabs the remote for the movie and presses  _play_. Jughead clears his throat, “You don’t need eggnog to kiss me, Betty.”

“Just The Nightmare Before Christmas?”


	9. nine

**_Number 25 for Bughead (obvi) and I know your word count is limited but I wouldn't mind a little 'spice' & for the holiday prompts: 25 + Bughead. - @fortheloveofriverdale & @arsenicpanda_ **

**__25\. Kissing on New Year’s Eve for the first time while secretly being in love, oh no (Blitzen)_ _ **

 

* * *

 

Betty’s eyes were glued to the damn clock on the damn well, in this god forsaken apartment.

_**11:45PM.** _

Where was he? He promised he would be here.

Midnight was fifteen minutes away, and there had not a single word from him. No phone call, no text message, no tumblr activity and nothing on Instagram.

Betty huffed out a frustrated sigh.

She should’ve known better. This was not his  _scene_. He hated crowds, he hated parties and he loathed the social etiquette that was needed to be able to function without receiving any second glances for complete strangers.

But, in the booth at Pop’s 48 hours earlier, Jughead Jones had damn well pinky promised Betty Cooper that he’d be at Cheryl Blossom’s New Years bash—he’d be there, right by her side, bringing in 2019.

 

 

**_11:55PM_ **

Nursing her now lukewarm glass of champagne, Betty glanced, once again, at her phone. Still nothing.

Jughead had four minutes to get his ass there, or the first thing he’d be experiencing on the first of January, 2019 would be the almighty wrath of Elizabeth Cooper.

And, like clockwork, mere seconds after Betty was mentally listing the ways she could torture him, the mood in the room shifted.

“ **Betty**!”

Turning slowly, her heart chest tightened and her heart bloomed at the sight of a very, and more than usual disheveled Jughead.

“Ohmygod, Juggie….” She reached to touch his arm, and flinched as she noticed he was trembling. “What happened?”

“My bike… it broke down….”

“It’s okay, take a deep breath…” Betty looked up at the clock, “and hold your explanation, I have to take you somewhere.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him against the crowd, and toward a door in the hallway.

“We have to hurry!”

Climbing two steps at a time, Betty pushed a door open to reveal an empty balcony.

An empty balcony that had the perfect view of the midnight fireworks.

“Betts…”

Looking at her phone, she smiled at the time….

 

 

_**11:59PM** _

As the crowd below started their countdown, she squeezed his hand and spun herself around. Sucking in a deep breath, Betty stood on her tippy toes and closed as her eyes as the crowd made their way to five, and continued their countdown.

Betty looped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to meet hers.

With the fireworks in full swing behind them, she sighed against his mouth as his arms tightened around her lower back. Without a second thought, Betty parted her lips ever so slightly, inviting his tongue to explore.

_(Which he did so, happily.)_

Both out of breath, they pulled apart slowly. Betty opened her eyes to find him looking at her. His eyes are dark shade of blue, but soft at the same time.

“Happy new year, Juggie.”

“And, a very happy new year to you, too, Betts.”

Betty’s fingers were playing with the hair that had escaped the safety of his beanie, and smiled.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come. I know  _this_  isn’t your thing.”

Jughead chuckled, placing a kiss on her temple, “You’re right, it’s not my thing. But, you’re here. And, I distinctly remember a pinky promise taking place. Plus, I kinda like you, so.”

“A pinky promise  _is_  a pinky promise. And, I kinda like you, too.” She giggled.


	10. ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teegz! You've been slaying the holiday ficlet game! Excited to see what all you get for the most recent ask game! How about I ask fooooorrrrr...... 7. Searching for, and cutting down, the perfect tree (Dasher) - @theheavycrown

**_Teegz! You've been slaying the holiday ficlet game! Excited to see what all you get for the most recent ask game! How about I ask fooooorrrrr...... 7. Searching for, and cutting down, the perfect tree (Dasher) - @theheavycrown_ **

**_~ (smut warning) ~_ **

 

* * *

 

He can hear the frustration in her voice.

Despite walking behind her, he can tell she’s frowning. And, Jughead  _hates_  it when Betty frowns.

“We’ll keep walking until we find it, Betts.”

She stops suddenly in her tracks, and he almost walks right into the back of her.

“Give a guy some warning!” He laughs.

“We have to keep track of where we’re going, Juggie. I appreciate that you’re being so accommodating, because I know,  _this_  isn’t what you want to be doing right now. But..”

Jughead closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers, pulling back briefly to remind her that  _this is exactly where he wants to be._

“You’d rather be in bed, Jug. Don’t lie.”

He looks around and smirks, “We can do whatever we do in bed, out here, ya know.”

_That_  catches her attention. Her eyes are wide. And her cheeks are flushed.

“ _What_?”

“There’s no-one else around, Betty. It’s just you, me and nature.”

Betty wants to shoot a remark back, but she’s already up against a tree and his lips are once again on hers. She can do nothing other then wrap her arms around his neck and melt into the kiss.

_Maybe_  it’s because it’s just the two of them.  _Maybe_  it’s the way his hands are on her ass hauling her further up the tree. Or  _maybe_  it’s just  _him_  pressing against  _her_. He’s hard, despite the cold around them.

“Juggie,” she murmurs against his ear. “What are you doing?”

With one free hand, he’s fumbling with the button and the zipper of her jeans, “I think it’s kinda obvious, no?”

“I mean, we’re outs—“

Her words are cut off as she feels his fingers move past her panties and plunge deep into her warmth.

“God, Betty. You’re  _so_  wet.” He groans against her neck.

She wants to reply, say something, but his pace is quickening and she can feel the tingle in her toes as his thumb finds her throbbing clit.

It all happens in an instant.

She’s fucking his hand, gripping his shoulders and screaming his name, all out in the middle of nature.

A few moments later, her body is calming down, and he’s pulling his hand out of her jeans. Betty slaps his arm at the smugness on his face.

“You’re loud when you want to be.”

Betty reaches down to palm his front. “Is this for me?” She asks, fluttering her lashes.

“You’re not so innocent. You know that,  _right_?” Jughead groans as she continues her movements. “Turn around.”

She chews her bottom lip, and turns to face the tree in front of her. Hearing the zipper pull down on his jeans, Betty sucks in a breath, as he follows up with pulling her jeans down, just below her ass.

Betty moves her panties to the side,  _just_  enough. Enough for him.

She lets out a high pitched whine as she feels him enter her from behind. It’s slow at first. Slow and calculated.

But when she encourages him to _go faster_ —he doesn’t need to be told twice.

Betty’s thankful for the gloves she’s wearing, as she lays her palms flat on the tree stump. Jughead has one hand firmly planted on her hip and the other is in her ponytail, pulling her head back, ever so slightly.

“Ohmygod…” She whimpers. He tugs on her hair a little harder and she can no longer contain the noises that escape her mouth.

“I’m.. close…” he groans.

“Fuck me, Juggie…. Fuck me.  _Please_ …” She encourages. Betty knows that he really does love it when she pleads, when she begs for it.

Begs for him.

Betty feels him plunge deeper, and feels him thrust harder. And it’s only a couple of minutes later that she feels him come undone in a flash of curse words and grunts.

She whimpers slightly at the loss when he pulls out, but Betty knows that they need to get a wriggle on.

“Hey, Jug…”

Jughead’s zipping his fly up and adjusting his beanie. “Yeah?”

“That’s not the wood we came out here for…”

He rolls his eyes, “Are you dishing out puns just after we’ve had sex, Betty Cooper?”

Betty shrugs and grins.

“And, that right there, is why I love you.”


	11. eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making s’mores in the fireplace when the power is out (Vixen/Donner) - @jane-hoppers

__**Making s’mores in the fireplace when the power is out (Vixen/Donner) - @jane-hoppers** _ _

 

* * *

 

 

Betty wakes with a groan, and a patch of dribble on the pillow off to the side.

_Ugh_.

After rolling around for a while, she finally sits up and looks around the room. It’s dark. And, cold. Unusually cold.

_Too cold._

Betty sweeps the blanket back in one quick motion, and pads her way to the door. Slowly opening, she looks down the hallway in the direction of Jughead’s room, but sees nothing. 

She looks in the other direction–toward the lounge, and spots the soft glow of orange.

“Jug?”

Betty hears the sound of plastic ripping and crunching, followed by some choice whispered words.

Her eyes are still adjusting to the darkness of the room when she makes her way to the edge of the kitchen.

“ ** _Betty_**!”

“You act surprised, but, I  _do_  live here. In fact, I have for a while now.”

Jughead rolls his eyes–well, at least, she thinks he does.

“What’s going on?” she asks, walking over the warm lounge room.

“We’ve lost power. Little bit ago. You’ve been asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. You’ve been working hard. You obviously needed the rest.”

Betty mutters her appreciation.

“I have no idea what year it is, Jug.” She sits down in front of the fire, stretching and wiggling her toes.

Hearing his deep chuckle in the background sends a shiver down her spine, and spurs a warmth in her belly–but she convinces herself,  _it’s the fire,_  and definitely not her childhood best friend, turned roommate.

“Here.”

Betty jumps as he takes a spot on the beanbag next to her.

“Now, who’s surprised?” He teases.

“Is  _this_  dinner?”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“We’re having s’mores for  _dinner_?” Betty is trying oh so hard to be mad at him– _s’mores for dinner is not responsible_ –already she can hear Alice in the back of her head.

“We’re adults, Betty.”

His answer is simple. Easy. Uncomplicated.

Betty smiles and takes one of the crackers, a square of chocolate and a marshmallow.

“Here’s to adulting…” she whispers.

“We should move a mattress, our blankets and pillows out here tonight.”

Almost choking on the delicious–and naughty–dinner, Betty’s head snaps in his direction, “ _What_?”

“Well, we have no power, Elizabeth. We’ll need to keep warm somehow. Nothing like sharing some body heat, yeah?”

Her eyes slowly move from his piercing and serious eyes, to the burning fire in front. “I guess so…”

This is only something she’s thought about, dreamt about, wanted–for longer than anyone should want anything. And, here it is. On a plate, amongst crackers, marshmallows and chocolate.

“Don’t try anything though, Juggie…”

“I absolutely cannot make any promises, Betts. Especially when you have a drool trail on your face.”

 


	12. twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping and reaching for the same item at the same time (Dancer) - @sweetbettycooper

_**Shopping and reaching for the same item at the same time (Dancer) - @sweetbettycooper** _

 

* * *

 

 

He knows he has left it to the last minute. He’s mentally cursing himself as the automatic doors open before him. Archie’s voice is teasing him in at the back of his mind.

_“You’ve had weeks, Jug! It’s Christmas Eve! You knew the weather was going to be hot…”  
_

Before he can get to the part of the memory where Archie takes his shirt off–because it’s over 25 degrees celsius–and commences the ‘ _I told you so_ ’ dance, Jughead heads toward the pool section of the store.

He has one thing in mind. And one thing only.

A god damn shell paddle pool.

The Bureau of Meteorology is predicting 45 degrees celsius on Christmas Day, and Jughead refuses to drown in his own sweat on the most festive of days.

He can’t help but think of all the food he could potentially miss out on.

That thought alone is enough to make him jump on his bike at 11:30PM on Christmas Eve, and ride down to the store.

Jughead is too busy consumed by his own thoughts, blinders on, and otherwise distracted to notice that someone else has obviously had the very same thought that he has had.

“Um, that’s mine.”

His arm snaps back at the small, soft and innocent sounding voice–that’s laced with  _something_ –that has seemingly come out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?”

“That. Right there,” he follows where she is pointing, and notices that this angel woman is pointing to his shell paddle pool, “is mine.”

She smiles at him, and he feels himself melting into a muddle– _very similar to Alex Mack_ –at her very feet.

“I think you’ll find I had it first.” He’s not sure how he’s managed any words, let alone a coherent sentence. But, here he is.

_And, he’s kind of proud of himself–even if he is a writer._

“I’m Betty.”

Betty’s hand is outstretched, and her dainty little fingers are wiggling–inviting him. And, Jughead being Jughead is never one to shy away from a handshake.

He’s shaking her hand, and her emerald green eyes are twinkling right back at him. “You would be?”

_Oh, right yes._  “Jughead.”

He’s also proud that he remembered his own name.

“Well, Jughead.” She’s reaching for the paddle pool, and he feels helpless, “It seems we’ve both been caught out with tomorrow’s forecast.”

Jughead nods, dumbly.

“I’m already feeling my mother’s harsh words about being so awful to a stranger,  _especially_  at this time of year…” the pool is neatly tucked in at her side, “there are two halves to this pool, so, if you feel inclined,” Betty gracefully reaches for her phone and places it in his hand, “Put your number in there, I’ll send a text tomorrow, and maybe you can sit in the other side.”


End file.
